


am i alone, or is there a wonderful person next to me?

by Toast_Senpai



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, complimentary hair braiding, i don't "do" plot, the construct of virginity, tragic overuse of Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 17:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9134113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toast_Senpai/pseuds/Toast_Senpai
Summary: It was all starting to feel like a test. Maybe visiting Yuri had actually been a very bad idea.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writeitinred](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeitinred/gifts).



> Writeitinred and I decided to have a fic exchange for the holiday season and we both picked YOI to write for. We each have shared our fic on here for anyone who might be interested.  
> A massive and unending thank you to my bae Anya for helping with all things Russian. Unlike me, she actually knows shit and I took heavy advantage of her. But if there are any mistakes, they are all my own.
> 
> Set after the end of the anime season.

Christmas had passed, but New Years was still a couple days away. The airport in Moscow was packed with holiday travelers whose loud cheerful greetings and dispirited goodbyes suppressed the music and flight announcements. Otabek collected his suitcase from the crowded baggage carousel before he made his way to the front doors. He took a taxi to the address he had asked for from Yakov a week prior. This was a surprise visit, after all, and he trusted Yakov not to mention anything to Yuri about it.

Otabek stared out the backseat windows at the city bathed in dying sunlight. It was washed glittering gold and white, with gray shadows underneath. Festive decorations and multicolored string lights lined the streets of the business area, and soon they became sparser as Otabek was taken out of the dense city. The snow covered pines and birch trees, and the blanketed fields were turned as smoky blue as the sun finally dipped past the horizon, the sky left a shock of red and dripping orange that melted into dark blue. The taxi driver turned the car’s headlights on.

In his coat pocket, Otabek touched his phone. He wanted to send a message to Yuri, to give him a heads up that he would soon be on his doorstep. But he knew the response already. Yuri would tell him that he should be home, spending the season with his family. Although, Otabek knew that Yuri wasn’t even with his own parents. Instead, he was out in the countryside with his grandfather Nikolai. This information Otabek had also learned from Yakov.

Otabek still took out his phone and checked Instagram. There were only a few posts from JJ and Phichit, and a few belated happy birthday comments to Georgi. Otabek stared at the bright screen before he locked it and returned the phone to the depths of his pocket. They had to be getting close by now.

Fifteen minutes later the taxi slowed and turned onto a dead end lane. The road had been plowed, but there was still a thick layer of old snow that the tires had to crunch through. There were only four other houses on the lane, and Yuri’s grandfather’s was the last one. Otabek paid the driver, scooped up his suitcase, then stepped through fresh drifts up to the door.

The house was average, perhaps even a little on the small side. But Otabek could see a plume of smoke coming out of the chimney and the sight alone warmed him. He could smell a hint of burning wood in the chilly air. He shoved his nose below his scarf and walked up the few steps to the porch. There was no doorbell so Otabek knocked.

He didn’t have much of a plan, to be honest. If Yuri insisted he go away, then he would return to the city and find a hotel room for the night before getting a flight back to Almaty the next day. He hoped that Yuri would at least let him stay for an hour, long enough to hand over the gift he had gotten the skater. Like Otabek, Yuri didn’t celebrate Christmas on the twenty-fifth, so the present was a congratulations for winning gold as well as a New Year’s gift.

Otabek waited patiently. He stomped his boots, trying to get any snow off. Then he heard the latch and the door was pulled open. Yuri stood before him, his blond hair pulled back into a short ponytail. His eyes widened at seeing Otabek.

Otabek tugged down his scarf. “Hey,” he said, breath clouding the space between them white.

Yuri blinked. He opened his mouth, but from within the house came his grandfather’s voice. Yuri turned and called to him, then looked back at Otabek. “What are you doing here?”

“I never properly congratulated you after the last free skate.” Otabek held up his suitcase. “I brought you a gift.”

Yuri bit his lip, face momentarily trying to contort into something akin to unease, but he smoothed it out. “Come inside,” he said, and held the door open.

Otabek nodded and entered the house where he silently slipped off his wet boots. The entryway was connected to the living room by a short hall, and he followed Yuri into the comfortable space where the fire was lit. There was a quaint decorated tree against one wall. The sofa was in the middle and faced away, and on it sat Yuri’s grandfather. He was watching a small television in the corner.

“Ey, dedushka. Otabek is here.”

The man made an affirming noise, then seemed to realize Yuri was talking about a guest. Nikolai raised himself from the sofa and came around to where Otabek and Yuri stood.

“Zdravstvuyte,” Nikolai greeted. He extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Otabek took the hand and returned the welcome. Yuri watched them, face blank. When Otabek let go, Yuri grabbed his arm.

“We’ll be in my room.” He tugged at Otabek’s sleeve.

“All right,” Nikolai said, a heavy eyebrow raised.

Yuri took them deeper into the house. His room was across from a bathroom, and was reasonably spacious. Otabek had only seen it before in pictures, but being inside it caused a quick, odd flutter in his chest. Curled up in the center of the wide, messy bed was Yuri’s black and white cat. Yuri closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

Otabek set his suitcase down. His eyes travelled along the white walls that held a few posters and skating medals Yuri had won over the years. There was a desk with a closed laptop, and a tall, overflowing bookcase with trophies on top. The dresser had stacks of clothes on it, along with a few framed photographs. Otabek was about to go to these to get a better look, but Yuri’s voice stopped him.

“So, shouldn’t you be at home?” Otabek turned around. Yuri stood with his slim arms crossed, pale bangs covering his right eye. “It’s almost the New Year.”

Otabek shrugged. “I wanted to spend it with you,” he said simply.

Yuri frowned. He pushed off the door and brushed past Otabek to his bed. He climbed on it and lightly ran a hand over the sleeping cat. “Your family is probably pissed that you left them at such an important time.”

Again, Otabek shrugged. “I told them I wanted to be with my best friend when the New Year came.” He watched Yuri’s hand pause in his petting.

“And they just let you go?”

“Why are you alone with your dedushka?” Otabek asked, ignoring Yuri’s question. “What about your parents?”

The frown was deeper on Yuri’s face. “Why’s it matter to you?” he spat, but then seemed to understand the rudeness of his words. He tossed his head, bangs momentarily disturbed. “I just like to be alone with Kolya. My parents don’t mind.”

Otabek knew there was more to it than that. He wanted to push for answers, but didn’t desire to make Yuri angrier than he always was. Otabek sighed softly to himself, then unwound his scarf. He dropped it to the floor next to his suitcase. Then he crouched, unzipped the bag, and rummaged through it.

Yuri stared down at him, face gone curious. When Otabek lifted the wrapped gift, his eyes took on a sudden brightness.

“Pozdravlyayu s pobedoy,” Otabek praised as he straightened. He handed the gift to Yuri, who quickly took it.

Otabek had thought that he’d tear the paper off, but was surprised when Yuri very carefully unwrapped the box. He removed the lid.

“It’s nothing spectacular,” Otabek warned. “But I saw it and thought of you, so I bought it.”

Yuri lifted the black and white souvenir jacket. The front had identical tiger heads on the chest, and when he turned it around the back displayed a full embroidered tiger standing among light pink flowers. Otabek held his breath and waited.

Yuri pressed his face into the jacket. “Bol’shoye spasibo,” was the muffled thanks.

Otabek’s lips tipped into a small smile. “Pozhaluysta. I’m glad you like it.”

Otabek watched Yuri shrug out of his hoodie and slid his arms into the new jacket. It was roomy on his ridiculously slender frame. Otabek had gotten the smallest they had, but knew that men’s sizes always ran big. Still, Yuri launched off the bed and went to examine himself in the stand mirror he kept on the far side of his room. He puffed out his chest and put his hands in the pockets. Then he spun on his heels and looked over his shoulder. He pulled the tie from his hair and shook his head, then gave a wide grin.

Yuri looked at Otabek, smile gone wicked. “I can’t wait until that porosenok sees me in this. He’s really gonna think I’m a punk.” Yuri huffed a laugh. “The Angels too. They’ll lose their damn minds.” Then he went back over to his bed and took his phone from his hoodie. This he shoved into Otabek’s hands. “Take a picture.” Yuri turned around as Otabek tapped on the camera app. Yuri widened his stance and peace-signed with one hand. Otabek took the shot, then gave the phone back. “I’m gonna tag you in it,” he said.

Otabek stood silently, feeling weightless with relief. Yuri’s smug sort of happiness filled the room and was infectious. Yuri was practically bouncing on his bed while he uploaded the picture to Instagram. The moving mattress rustled his sleeping cat, who gave a displeased chatter.

“Murka, tikho!” Yuri shushed her. He pet the fluffy feline with one hand while the other thumbed at his phone’s keyboard. “There,” Yuri said. “Now I’m gonna get notifications all night.” He glanced at Otabek.

The room went silent. Otabek was looking down at his suitcase. He was truly pleased that Yuri was in high spirits, but didn’t know what else to say or do. His mission was over. He could have easily mailed the jacket, but then he would have missed the reaction he had just witnessed, and he locked the delightful image away along with all the other emotions he had seen Yuri express since becoming his friend.

“Otabek?”

He looked up, eyes refocusing on Yuri. “Prosti,” Otabek apologized. “I should let you and Nikolai enjoy your holiday.” He zipped his bag and picked up his scarf. He tried to smile, but it felt strained. “Izvinite.” Otabek turned around and went to the door. His hand rested on the handle.

Yuri hugged him tightly from behind. “Durak,” Yuri scolded against his back. “You can stay, if you want. The old guy won’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Da.” Yuri released him, and Otabek faced him. “Take off your coat. Aren’t you hot in that?” Yuri made a tight face.

Otabek relaxed. It looked like he wouldn’t have to go back to the city just yet. “Is there a spare room I can put my bag in?” he asked.

Yuri gave him a blank stare. “You’ll have to share my room. The house is small. There’s only Kolya’s room and mine.” He made to grab for Otabek’s suitcase, but stopped halfway. “Unless you want to sleep on the sofa?”

Otabek didn’t waste time saying no. He knew that taking the sofa was probably the polite thing to do, but he had wasn’t going to let an opportunity like this pass. He set the bag down and started undoing the buttons of his coat.

“This is like a slumber party,” Yuri said excitedly. Otabek watched him lift his head and sniff the air. “Ah, I think the pirozhki are done. We had just put them in the oven before you showed up.” He opened the door. “I’ll grab us some,” he said, then left.

Otabek listened to his hasty footfalls retreat. He removed his coat and laid it on the back of Yuri’s desk chair along with his scarf. This was… unexpected. All of it. Otabek took a few deep breaths. Ever since he had laid eyes on Yuri all those years ago he had wanted to be close to him. He was much more skilled than Otabek, so much more graceful and full of strength and rhythm. And now he had just won gold, taken it by a few mere half points from Yuuri Katsuki. It had been exhilarating to see Yuri perform so perfectly. He had completely deserved the win. Now here Otabek was, able to spend a small fraction of time with Yuri, whom he admired greatly.

Otabek removed his phone from his coat and opened Instagram. He pulled up the picture that Yuri had posted not long ago. He liked it, then mindlessly looked through some of the hundreds of comments, not really reading them. It reminded him of something he didn’t want to forget to ask Yuri before he left. Although he knew Yuri would probably have quite a lot to say on the matter.

“Ey, I’ve got the pirozhski,” came Yuri’s voice from behind. Otabek saw that he was carrying a large plate piled high with the steaming buns. He sat on the bed, and the cat was suddenly very much interested in the food. “Get some before Murka eats yours.”

Otabek came over and placed himself at the foot of the bed. Yuri extended the plate and Otabek took one.

“Careful, they’re really hot,” Yuri warned. Despite saying this, he bit into one. Otabek watched him tear the pliable bread with his teeth and make an opening to the meat inside. This he blew on, cheeks puffed.

It was charming, and Otabek had to force himself to look away.

They ate while Yuri led the conversation. Most of it included how he was looking forward to the next skating season and that he was certain to win everything this time. Yuri also spent a great deal discussing Victor as well as a few other skaters. Otabek listened mutely and nodded often. He took a special kind of comfort in hearing Yuri talk, about hearing of his future aspirations and how he was going to further his training, how his voice became fast and loud when he brought up his enemies, then would suddenly turn into an almost passionate whisper at the mention of all the places he would get to shop at in between various competitions that were held around the world.

There was only one lone pirozhski left when Otabek finally spoke. “It would be nice to practice with you again, like when we were younger.”

Yuri looked at him with astonished eyes, mouth stuffed full. He struggled to swallow. “You want Yakov to coach you?”

It wasn’t what he meant. Otabek didn’t really care who the coach was, as long as no ballet was involved. He didn’t know how to properly express his wish to be by Yuri’s side. Otabek knew that Yuri was a loner, that he did his best while focusing on bettering himself by instructions from Yakov, Lilia, and of course Victor. Yuri spent all of his time improving, and if that’s what he wanted to concentrate his life on, then who was Otabek to make selfish comments? He didn’t want to be an intruder in Yuri’s life, even if he did long to get to know him better.

“Not exactly,” Otabek finally said. He lowered the half eaten pirozhski from his lips. “I just want to spend more time with you.” He didn’t add that he thought it impossible, what with their filled schedules.

Yuri tilted his head. Then, slowly, a faint blush spread high across his cheeks, and his lips quivered. “Oh.” He looked down at his lap, tread his fingers into Murka’s long fur. “I… don’t really know what friends do together,” he said shyly.

Otabek internally fought himself. Here was Yuri, unabashed and innocent, searching for some type of guidance for an issue that had never before been raised, and what did Otabek want to say? There was this lurid part of him that wanted to say nothing, instead push the plate and the cat between them to the floor so that he could crowd Yuri against the headboard of his bed and get close to his face, get close to those wide turquoise eyes and show him the wrong way to be only friends, to take hours demonstrating how friends didn’t spend time together.

That’s the part of himself that Otabek had been suppressing since he asked Yuri to be his friend, and it was the part he planned to keep hidden for as long as possible. It wasn’t because Yuri was younger than him, nor was it because he had dedicated all of his time to skating. It was simply because Otabek didn’t know how Yuri would react to anything besides an offer of friendship. At the time, he had looked into those soldier’s eyes and saw so much of his own determination and essence that it was like a mirror reflecting who he had once strived to become. Of course he had always wanted to be friends with Yuri because he respected him, but the day he asked him was the day he had decided to act on it because his mind was made up.

And now he sat here in front of Yuri, someone he was sure would detest him for thinking any filthy thoughts. Otabek already scorned himself just a little for it, but what made him even more frustrated was that he _liked_ thinking about pushing Yuri down, enjoyed wondering how he could bend that lithe body and those sinewy legs. How he also wanted to give Yuri gift after gift, to see how Yuri’s face would light up in pleasure, to hear his tongue release those native words of thanks and rise into a smile.

“Otabek?”

The questioning voice brought Otabek out of his deep thoughts. He had to blink several times to refocus his eyes. Yuri gave him a curious, catlike look, and it hit Otabek hard in the chest. He shook his head and apologized for spacing out.

“Tired from the flight?” Yuri asked.

“I think so,” Otabek said, and it was half true. He had always disliked flying and the stress it never failed to give him.

“Want to take a bath?”

Otabek shrugged. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

Yuri smiled, and it was such a genuine thing that Otabek almost got lost in it. “Of course it’s not,” Yuri said. “Come on, I’ll show you how to work the facet. It’s backwards because dedushka had to replace the handles and put them on the wrong way.” He slid out of the bed, ever so nimble, and Otabek followed him.

The bathroom was quite cramped, but Yuri pulled him in close and demonstrated the hot and cold as well as the stopper. Otabek felt like he was crowding Yuri out, despite being only slightly taller, but his shoulders and chest were wider. When Yuri opened one of the drawers under the sink to show him where the towels were, Otabek had to force himself into the section of his mind he went to when he skated. He saw Yuri’s lips move around words, and the towel was set on the counter edge. He moved around Otabek out of the room and back into his own. It wasn’t until Otabek was alone that he allowed himself to return.

This was all starting to feel like a test. Maybe it had been a very bad idea, coming here.

* * *

Somehow, the bath cleared Otabek’s head. After it, he dressed in his night clothes and then sat on Yuri’s bed toweling his hair dry while Yuri used the bathroom. It did feel sort of like a slumber party, and the thought amused Otabek. He had spent many nights at his friends’ places when he was younger. They had played video games and wrested, and a few times there were secret trips out to the night market. This was different. It had an air of naiveté to it, a sort of pleasantness that came with being around Yuri.

When his host returned it was in a pair of cheetah-print tights and an oversized white shirt. Otabek stared much too long, and he was aware of it even if Yuri wasn’t. Yuri set Murka on the floor while he shook out the thick comforters and spread them neatly on the bed. He stole a spare pillow from the hallway closet and added it to the already abundant pile. When Otabek was able to force his gaze off of Yuri, he examined the bed. It appeared quite decadent, and his eyes felt heavy the longer he looked at it. Sleep was even more tempting when Yuri flicked off the light.

Yuri took the side closest to the wall and Murka laid between them. Otabek settled under the covers. The faint sound of purring reached his ears, and he turned his head, trying to see Yuri. The room was dark, although some moonlight made its way in through the windows. But Otabek didn’t want to try to keep his eyes open longer, so he let them fall shut.

“Spokoynoy nochi,” Yuri said, voice somehow incredibly wispy but also deep, reverberating.

The goodnight wish wrapped itself around Otabek and he meant to reply. However, sleep hooked him and pulled him down with a sharp tug, and he was out.

When Otabek woke, it was hours later and because he couldn’t breathe. He reached up to whatever was suffocating him and his hands met soft fur. Otabek lifted the cat off his face and set her on his chest instead, where she was content to curl up. He sighed and resettled himself, wondering what time it was but not really caring since he was still tired.

The next time he woke, it was to Yuri’s grandfather knocking on the door, saying that he was making breakfast. Yuri ignored him and Otabek watched as he pulled the blankets over his head, grumbling something that sounded like curses. He must not be a morning person, Otabek thought, and he wondered what would be the proper thing to do. He wanted to go under the covers as well and absorb all the warmth he could.

Instead he slipped out of the bed and from his bag retrieved clothes to change into. He held them in his hand and paused, looking at the closed door. Then he turned back and saw the small lump in the bed that was Yuri, as well as the lazy Murka stretched out on her back in the spot he had just vacated. It wouldn’t hurt to do it here. Otabek stood with his back to the bed. He pulled off his sleep pants and traded them for jeans. Then he raised his shirt over his head.

“What’s the scar from?”

Otabek turned around, his arms still caught in the shirt. Yuri was peeking at him, only the top of his head and tired eyes visible. It took Otabek a moment to realize that Yuri was talking about the old scar he had on the left side of his lower back.

“At practice I fell, and someone tripped over me. Their skate cut through my shirt,” Otabek explained.

“That sucks,” Yuri said, then yawned. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

Otabek switched his shirts, then stood a bit awkwardly. He messed around on his phone, flicking his eyes every so often to the bed. Yuri was stretching, reaching his arms out and folding himself in half. Otabek was always amazed to see such flexibility. Yuri gave Murka a prompt belly rub before he pushed himself off the bed.

“Come on, let’s see what that starik is cooking.” He grabbed his phone and went out the door, Otabek right behind him.

The table was already set, and Yuri sat in a chair, hunched over and tapping at his phone. Otabek said good morning to Nikolai and placed himself close to Yuri. He watched as Yuri scrolled through Instagram quickly, barely spending half a second on the posts. Then Yuri clicked his tongue. “Eti chertovy ublyudki,” he swore. “Stealing my picture and editing it to shit.”

“Zavtrak gotov,” Nikolai announced as he set a large pan of fried eggs, kolbasa, tomatoes, and peppers onto a trivet in the center of the table. “And you,” he pointed a greasy spatula at Yuri, “watch your mouth, mal’chik. There’ll be no swearing at this table.”

Otabek hid his smile.

Yuri waved a hand. “Da, dedushka. Whatever you say.”

“Ungrateful brat. You used to be so much sweeter when you were younger. Now you’re a teenager filled with unsavory words and contempt for the world.” Nikolai set down a teapot and a container of sugar before he sat. “Otabek is much more polite.”

Yuri made a show of rolling his eyes. He took the spatula from Nikolai and scooped out of the pan, filling his plate. “Otabek’s just quiet,” he said, and looked at his friend.

Otabek gave a nod, and Nikolai hummed.

After that, breakfast was eaten in relative silence except for Yuri’s simmering bad mood over his Instagram photo. Every time he made an annoyed comment, Nikolai would shake his head and sigh. Otabek watched them quietly from behind a mug of tea, highly entertained. Soon enough, Yuri’s temper seemed to shift to a better one once he was full of food. He even thanked Nikolai for cooking.

“Then you can clean up while I go shopping,” Nikolai said.

“For New Year’s food?” Yuri asked, his eyes sparkling.

“Da. I expect both of you to help make the Salat Olivye.”

Yuri smiled wide, and Otabek was sure that he was kicking his legs in joy underneath the table. “Are we going to have kompot and cake too?”

Niolai nodded and stood. He pushed in his chair. “You know I always buy a lot since you eat like a horse. Where it all goes, I have no idea.” He glanced at Otabek. “I should probably get extra.”

Yuri was buzzing with excitement. He started to rattle off all of the dishes he wanted to make, half of which Otabek had never heard of, but was eager to try. Nikolai collected his coat and hat, and left the two of them alone, saying he’d be back after a while.

“I’ll wash, you dry,” Yuri said, and started to collect the dishes.

While they stood side by side at the sink, Otabek took a moment to savor their closeness and the casual air. Yuri asked about his bike, and Otabek assured him that it was doing fine, that he would have brought it but shipping it was expensive, especially during the holidays.

“Chert, I really wanted to ride it again.” Yuri pouted, scrubbing harder at the plate in the soapy water.

Otabek refused to let the suggestive words affect him. He wiped down the mug he was holding. “Soon,” he promised. “I’ll bring it to the next competition.”

“You better,” Yuri said. “I’ll wear the jacket you gave me and we’ll look fuckin’ sick driving around.” He held out the plate, and Otabek took it, their hands brushing. Yuri grinned at him. “Do you think dedushku would let me get a bike?”

“No,” Otabek said honestly. “He’s protective of you.” He also didn’t want Yuri to have his own bike. It was too dangerous.

Yuri sighed dramatically and threw back his head, his bangs flying. “When’s that shitty starik gonna let me grow up!” But then his face softened, and he seemed to be warring against himself.

Otabek watched him closely, not knowing all the thoughts Yuri must be thinking. He wondered how hard it was, to be so in charge of oneself at his age. Otabek had never been as independent as Yuri. He was more so now, but he was still very near to his family and they were quite involved in his life.

Once everything was cleaned and put away, Yuri made more tea and took it to the living room. “I’m gonna go change quick,” he said. “You can watch tv if you want.”

Yuri left the room, and Otabek sat on one end of the sofa. He didn’t want to let his mind wander too much. There was an easiness in the house, one that Otabek wanted to respect, especially while Nikolai was absent.

When Yuri came back, he was wearing a sweater with a large cat face on it and some black tights. He poured a mug of tea and placed himself on the opposite end of the sofa, bambi legs tucked underneath.

Otabek promptly forgot that he told himself to behave. He stared openly at Yuri, watched him raise the steaming mug of tea to his lips and take a sip. The sweater added to his charm, and Otabek wanted to move closer, to brush the long bangs out of his eyes and set a pair of cat ears on his head. He was sure Yuri wouldn’t mind those.

“Your tea’s gonna get cold,” Yuri said.

Otabek picked up his mug. He wanted something sweet like hot chocolate, but the image of Yuri curled up on the sofa would suffice for now. Then he remembered that he wanted to ask Yuri something.

“You got invited, didn’t you? To Victor and Yuuri’s wedding,” Otabek said quietly, carefully even. He knew it wasn’t going to be a light topic.

Yuri stuck out his tongue, eyebrows furrowed. “Of course. Etot idiot Victor called me last week,” he said, then groaned. “It gives me a headache just thinking about it.” He took another swallow of tea and his face twisted into clear revulsion. “I hate seeing those two all lovey-dovey. Otvratitel’nyy,” he hissed. Yuri was gripping his mug so hard Otabek could see his hands shaking.

Why? Otabek desperately wanted to know why Yuri felt this way. He tried to ask the question silently, for fear that if he voiced it Yuri would throw the mug at him and retreat in a flurry of rage. Otabek held his gaze, and slowly Yuri let his stiff shoulders fall, his expression evening out.

“Don’t tell them this,” Yuri said. “But,” he paused, bit his lip. “Really, I swear, if you even mention what-”

“I won’t,” Otabek interrupted, and he didn’t remember the last time he’d done so.

Yuri huffed. He looked into his mug. “I’m jealous,” was the mumbled answer. 

Otabek blinked. Yuri, admitting he was actually jealous? Was this the same Yuri who would threaten his opponents and intimidate them? The cocky teenager who had an impressive ego? Otabek was stunned, although he didn’t show it. Yuri glanced at him, but Otabek was staring at the threaded pattern on the sofa, lost. Yuri confessing such a vulnerable side of himself was fascinating.

And it stirred up Otabek, because Yuri was _jealous_ of Victor and Yuuri’s intimate relationship. He was jealous that the two were publicly affectionate and now they were getting married. It signaled to Otabek that Yuri longed for something similar, and how was he even supposed to respond?

“Chert,” Yuri cursed. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget it.”

There was no way Otabek could do that. His curiosity overtook him for a moment. “Do you want a girlfriend?” he asked. It sounded weird, coming out of his mouth. He regretted it.

Yuri gave him a perplexed look. “What? No.” He opened his mouth, but closed it and turned his body, set his elbows on the back of the sofa.

Otabek didn’t want to ask anything more. He shouldn’t have even asked about a girlfriend. He was so good at thinking before he spoke, and now he felt like he had ruined it. Yuri wasn’t looking at him, and the pleasant air that had been in the room seemed to grow cold. Otabek wondered if there was any way to save the situation.

“I don’t know why I’m jealous,” Yuri said suddenly. “It’s not like I really care about that stuff. I never thought about having a girlfriend. They seem annoying. Look at JJ’s fiancé, she’s just like the Angels, always hanging on him and acting like a bitch.” He blew out a breath, bangs ruffling. “It would be a lot of work. I don’t have time for that.” Then he flicked his eyes to Otabek, searching. “You’ve had one, yeah?”

Otabek hadn’t expected the question. His mind temporarily got lost in a void, and he just stared at Yuri’s large, curious eyes. Was he looking to Otabek for guidance? It was impossible.

Finally, Otabek found himself. “No,” he said, firmly, and didn’t offer anything more. He didn’t dare.

Yuri tilted his head, and his bangs covered his face. He shook his head and sent them away. “Oh,” was all he said. He drained the last of the tea from his mug. Otabek couldn’t tell if Yuri was disappointed with the answer or not.

* * *

Nikolai returned hours later, and Yuri and Otabek had to help him bring in bags of food. All of it barely fit in the refrigerator and the things that didn’t need to be kept cold overflowed the kitchen countertops.

Yuri looked at all the ingredients and rubbed his hands together. “Tomorrow is a full day of cooking.” He looked at Otabek. “You know how to cook, yeah?”

“Somewhat,” Otabek said. He knew how to make simple dishes, but he wasn’t very familiar with festive Russian holiday food.

“We’ll help you, do not worry,” Nikolai assured him. He patted Otabek on the back. “I taught Yuri how to make borscht when he was four. He’s been cooking ever since.”

Otabek was impressed. Yuri blushed, and he busied himself by looking over packages and cans on the counter.

Nikolai help up a hand to his mouth and whispered to Otabek. “He used to want to be a chef, before he became serious about skating.”

“I can hear you,” Yuri said, but he refused to turn around.

Nikolai rested a hand on Yuri’s shoulder, and spoke to him too softly for Otabek to hear.

Otabek’s phone started to ring, and he went to Yuri’s room to answer it. It was his mother asking how he was. He spent a while talking to her, reassuring her that he felt all right and wasn’t trying to avoid her, he just wanted to spend time with a friend he only ever saw at skating competitions. Then his siblings each wanted to talk to him and he felt a little guilty about not being there with them during the New Year celebration. But missing one year out of many wasn’t going to do any harm. Otabek told them he’d be back soon.

He returned to Yuri and Nikolai, who were watching a television program. Otabek joined them, and while he stared at the tv screen, his mind was elsewhere.

* * *

Otabek knew this night was going to be much harder than the last when Yuri came into the bedroom fresh from the bath, dressed only in a massive, black and white tiger striped shirt. It went down to his knees, and the neckline exposed some of his shoulder. Otabek didn’t understand Yuri’s clothing choice at all. It seemed to have no boundaries.

Yuri flopped back onto the bed and he almost landed on Murka. He held up his phone and Otabek watched him furiously type on it.

“Those two are already at it, and it isn’t even New Year’s yet!” Otabek knew who he was talking about. “They’re in Japan at Katsudon’s place. Heh, I can’t wait to see how fat he’s gonna get,” Yuri laughed. Then he seemed to sober. He let his arms drop and he stared up at the ceiling. “We’re having more fun than them,” he said, and his voice was filled with resolve, like when he talked about skating. He sat up and looked at Otabek. “You’re having fun, right?”

Otabek wandered closer, trying not to stare at Yuri’s bare collarbones, at the way the ends of his drying hair curled. He was a complex mix of endearing and sensual, and Otabek couldn’t comprehend how he was supposed to feel.

“Yeah,” Otabek said, and offered a modest smile. He sat on the edge of Yuri’s bed. “I’ve enjoyed being here with you.”

Yuri hummed a confirmation. Then he leaned forward, his eyes squinting and mouth curving into a smirk. “Do you think that Katsudon and Victor have fucked yet?”

The air left Otabek’s lungs. The teasing look on Yuri’s face and his question were too much, too suddenly unexpected and Otabek could only stare at him. But then he had to draw in breath, and the noise was loud to his ears.

Yuri laughed then, a scoffing sound. “I bet they haven’t even kissed,” he said, then paused. “Besides on the ice.” He peered at Otabek, lips tilted up just so. “Katsudon is such a virgin.”

Otabek’s hands clentched into fists. It felt like Yuri was talking about _him_ , the way his eyes bore into Otabek’s own, how he was closer than before, close enough that Otabek could just about see down his shirt. It really felt like a test now, one that Otabek thought he was surely going to lose.

He frowned slightly, just a tiny bit, and tipped his head forward until their noses were almost touching. “And you’re not?” he asked quietly.

Yuri’s eyes widened, and Otabek was sure that he’d move away.

But Yuri didn’t. Instead, he pushed Otabek back flat against the mattress and hovered over him, his hair a curtain that shadowed both their faces. Otabek couldn’t read him. Yuri’s hand on his chest tightened in his shirt.

“You know I am,” was the reply. Yuri flicked his eyes to Otabek’s mouth, then back up. “And I know you’re not.”

The shiver worked its way along Otabek’s nerves and he was overwhelmed by Yuri’s boldness. He didn’t know how to tell Yuri that he actually was, that the coolness he wore was nothing like what was going on inside his head. He fiercely wanted to deny Yuri’s statement, but he could only lay there, lips parted but refusing to move.

Yuri kissed him, just a faint press of lips. His eyes were halved aqua stones filled with dark specs of aluminum and Otabek didn’t want to look away from them, they were so near and unblinking. The mouth against his own was warm and supple and motionless, and Otabek could only hear the brisk pound of his heart.

“Ty mne nravish’sya,” Yuri confessed without pulling away.

Otabek already knew Yuri liked him, of course he did, but listening to him say it aloud was different.

And then Yuri said, “Ya tebya _khochu_.”

Otabek felt desire punch him in the stomach. Yuri wanted him, had just voiced it and was looking at him with greedy eyes. Otabek craved to switch their positions, to pin Yuri to the bed and swallow him whole. But he stayed still, let Yuri kiss him again, and it was frantic this time. Otabek kissed back with just as much fervor.

Had he been wrong all along? Otabek attempted to stay focused on working out his now false assumptions. It was difficult trying to come to a sensible conclusion when Yuri was sliding a leg over him to sit on his stomach. Otabek needed to do something with his hands, so he raised them to Yuri’s ivory hair and combed it back, fingers threading through the silky strands.

Yuri purred, a low, pleased sound that chipped at Otabek’s self-control. When Yuri brushed his lips along Otabek’s jaw, he finally was able to speak.

“You wore that shirt on purpose.”

Yuri paused. Then he nipped at Otabek’s skin. “So what if I did.” He sat up and pulled Otabek’s hands from his hair and held them in his own. “I was waiting for you to make a move, but I ended up doing it first,” he said, and grinned. He squeezed Otabek’s hands, looked down at him like he wanted to say something more.

There was a knock on the door. Yuri looked annoyed. “Chto ty khochesh’?” Yuri shouted the question.

“No sleeping in tomorrow. We have much food to make,” came Nikolai’s muffled voice.

“Da, we’ll be up, don’t worry.” Yuri waited a beat, until he was sure his grandfather was gone. Then he sighed, a defeated sound.

Otabek lifted his upper body until his chest was in line with Yuri’s, their faces close again. He could tell Yuri was pouting, probably upset about having been interrupted.

“We should get to bed,” Otabek suggested.

Yuri squinted at him. “You want to sleep?” He released Otabek’s hands, then set his own on the front of Otabek’s pants, a teasing smile on his lips. “Doesn’t _feel_ like it.”

Otabek knew he couldn’t suppress the heat that gathered on his face. “We shouldn’t do things in your grandfather’s house,” he said, and he meant it. It was too risky. Even kissing Yuri felt chancy. What if they were caught? He was sure he’d be kicked out and never welcomed again.

Yuri rolled his eyes. “It’s my house too, ya know. I do live here.”

There were all kinds of inaccuracies with that, but Otabek didn’t mention them. He just looked away, stared at Murka, who was lying on the pillows, watching them.

“Hey,” Yuri prompted. He made a show of shrugging. “It’s cool. We can sleep.”

Otabek met his eyes again. “Sorry,” he said.

“Why apologize?” Yuri waved his hand, his massive shirt fluttering. “Now we can cuddle and shit.”

They got ready for bed, and as soon as the lights were off, Yuri was pressed against his side. It was pleasant, and the lustful longing Otabek had experienced before was replaced by contentment. Just having Yuri sleeping at his side was enough right now.

Otabek slept deeply, and when Yuri’s phone alarm woke them up at seven, he didn’t want to get up. He forced himself though, then had to force Yuri as well. Yuri latched onto him and it made getting out of bed difficult. But they finally did, and after they were dressed they went to the kitchen where Nikolai was already taking down bowls and measuring cups from the cupboards.

Yuri wanted breakfast, but Nikolai shook his head. “We can snack as we go. Wash your hands, you two.”

The oven and stove worked overtime all day. Otabek’s hands were tired of the constant chopping and stirring. But it was lively in the kitchen. Yuri knew endless recipes from memory, and the ones he didn’t he pulled up on his phone and complained about them being wrong, so he looked through the collection of old cookbooks his grandfather kept. Otabek knew little of what was made, and Yuri explained to him the taste of everything in great detail. He _would_ have made an amazing chef, Otabek thought.

When Nikolai stepped out of the room, Yuri didn’t hesitate to push a spoonful of caviar into Otabek’s mouth before he kissed him. When he pulled away, he had on a sly grin and he made a show of licking his lips. “Ochen’ vkusno!” he said, then winked.

The deserts came next, and after that they made salads, so many salads that Otabek felt like he was cooking for a mansion full of people. They ran out of room in the fridge so they had to keep a few dishes outside in a container in the snow. Then they had to clean up, and that took a while, although Otabek didn’t mind.

It was getting dark by the time they started eating. The salads were chilled, and the table was set for a feast. Otabek didn’t even know where to start. Yuri told him to try everything so he did. And Nikolai was right when he said Yuri ate a lot. Somehow the tiny body could actually fit a lot of food into it, and where it was all stored Otabek had no idea.

Nikolai poured him a glass of vodka, and Yuri scolded his grandfather.

“What? He’s old enough to drink,” Nikolai said.

“Then pour me some. Why am I the only one left out?”

“Because you’re still young,” Nikolai said. “We made kompot, what’s wrong with that?”

Yuri huffed, but said no more. Otabek drank the vodka but refused any more. It was good, however he didn’t want to drink unless Yuri was.

The holiday television specials started, and Nikolai and Yuri were glued to the tv screen. It was entertaining, and Yuri explained who all the celebrities were. They watched more and ate more, and when the countdown began they stood close to the tv, drinks in hand. Yuri snapped several selfies and insisted on Otabek being in them.

“S novym godom!!” they cheered, and clinked their glasses together as the clock ticked over.

Otabek observed Nikolai and Yuri exchange gifts, and while Yuri was opening his he got a drunken video call from Victor. He and Yuuri had already brought in the New Year six hours ago but still wanted to wish Yuri the best at the proper time.

“Go to bed already, shitty p’yanitsa,” Yuri shouted, then ended the call. His phone rang again, but he ignored it.

It was an interesting experience, and Otabek was glad he was allowed to spend it with Yuri and Nikolai. He missed his own family, but it was worth skipping their celebration to see Yuri. He sent them all a text and got many quick replies.

Nikolai stood from the sofa, empty bottle of cognac in his hand. “That’s enough for me. Spokoynoy nochi,” he said.

“Night, dedushka,” Yuri said.

Otabek wished him a goodnight as well, and he went to his room.

Yuri laid sprawled on the floor, half watching the television and half on his phone. He looked over his shoulder at Otabek.

“Tired yet?” he asked.

“Not really.” Otabek sat down next to him, legs crossed. “But soon, probably.”

Yuri nodded. He pushed himself up and looked at Otabek. “Do you know how to braid?”

Otabek stared at Yuri’s face, his skin turned a pale blue from the glow of the television. He looked hopeful and had sounded excited.

“I do,” Otabek said.

“You’re fuckin’ lying,” Yuri said with a laugh. He pulled the hair tie from his wrist and held it out to Otabek, who took it. “Show me, then.” He scooted in front of Otabek, hands in his lap.

Otabek smoothed Yuri’s hair with his fingers, teasing out any knots. “I _do_ have several sisters,” he said.

“You do? Huh. I didn’t know that.”

“French braid?” Otabek asked.

Yuri said yes, and Otabek started on it. He was gentler than he was with his sisters, and Yuri’s hair was short enough that it didn’t take very long at all. At the end he tied it off and Yuri turned around. He brushed Yuri’s bangs behind his ear. Pretty. Yuri was immensely pretty, more so than Otabek could ever tell him.

“How do I look?” Yuri asked.

Otabek gave a silent thumbs up. Yuri smiled, eyes squinting, and Otabek couldn’t help leaning forward to kiss him. He tasted like lemon from the tea they’d had earlier.

Yuri pulled back to say, “Sorry I didn’t get you a gift.”

“I showed up uninvited.” Otabek wanted to say that he didn’t need a gift, that just being able to spend time with Yuri was enough, to be able to kiss him and sleep next to him was more than he could have ever asked for.

“I’ll get you one for Christmas on the seventh. You’re not allowed to say no. I’ll even ship it to you.”

“If you want.”

Yuri pushed his phone into Otabek’s hands. “Now take a picture of my hair.” He turned back around, but he didn’t make any peace signs this time, just sat still on his knees.

Otabek took it, and returned the device to Yuri. Yuri seemed to look at the picture for a while, head down, and his bangs fell loose. He pushed them back.

“Should I get my ears pierced?” Yuri asked, and touched a bare lobe. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

It was selfish, but Otabek wanted to say yes. He would highly enjoy anything Yuri wanted to adorn himself with. Otabek only gave a shrug, though. “They’re your ears.”

“That’s not very helpful,” Yuri laughed. He twisted his upper body left and right, and Otabek heard the cracks his back gave. Yuri looked at him. “Think we should try to sleep?”

Sleep sounded nice, and Otabek said so. They turned off the television and went to Yuri’s room.

* * *

In the early afternoon, after they had slept in late then finally got up and bathed, they found a note in the kitchen from Nikolai. It said he’d went to town to visit friends and he wouldn’t be back until dark. So Yuri and Otabek ate the leftovers that Nikolai hadn’t taken with him, and when they were done went back to Yuri’s room.

“When are you going home?” Yuri asked. He was petting a loudly purring Murka.

Otabek curled a finger under the cat’s chin. “Tomorrow morning. I booked the earliest flight they had at five.”

“Gross.” Yuri made a face. “Waking up early sucks. I’ll be like a zombie when I see you off.”

“You don’t have to,” Otabek said.

“I want to.” Yuri lifted Murka and set her on the floor, where she flicked her tail and walked out of the room. “So, dedushka is gone all day…” He moved next to Otabek, a mischievous look on his face. “Can you think of anything to do?”

Otabek knew what Yuri was trying to hint at, and Otabek didn’t feel like playing any more games. He cupped Yuri’s cheek and kissed him, and felt Yuri relax into his side. Otabek was more comfortable knowing that they were alone in the house, that they would be for hours. Except there were still parts to this that he didn’t think could happen, not right now, given the place.

Otabek released him. He didn’t want it to get too far. “You don’t have-”

“What, condoms?” Yuri interrupted, then grinned wolfishly. He went to his closet and dug around.

Otabek felt a nervous lump start to form in his throat. He wanted to do this, had wanted to for some time now. But this side of Yuri was unforeseen. It thrilled him, but also made him anxious. Yuri was now a complete wild card.

Yuri returned to the bed with a black gift bag. “Lotion, massage oil, lube, and condoms,” Yuri listed off as he looked through it. “Not all of my fans are innocent girls.” He took out the box of condoms as well as the lubricant. “This is all we need, yeah?”

Otabek could only nod.

“Good thing I didn’t throw this shit away.”

Yuri looked smug. Otabek wanted to change that expression. He curved a hand around Yuri’s thin waist and brought their chests together. He opened up Yuri’s mouth with his own, dipped his tongue past pliant lips and Yuri closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around Otabek and pushed a hand into his short hair. He slid into Otabek’s lap and wouldn’t sit still, kept a steady pressure on Otabek’s cock that reacted faster than he was proud of.

He moved his head to nip at Yuri’s neck, made a slow path to his shoulder and worried the skin there. Yuri groaned, scratched his nails into Otabek’s scalp, and drew them across his undercut then back up into the longer top part. It felt nice, and Otabek let his hands wander along Yuri’s back. He pushed under his shirt and kneaded the expansion of lean muscles. He felt them quiver under his hands, and Yuri stilled. He practically melted against Otabek.

“You should be a masseuse,” Yuri groaned. “Fuckin’ hell. Magic hands.”

Otabek smiled and lifted Yuri’s shirt off him. He let it fall to the floor.

Yuri took a deep breath and bent back, stretching his spine. He poked the tip of his tongue out and stared at Otabek for a moment. Then he grabbed the hem of his shirt, and Otabek helped remove it. Yuri pawed at Otabek’s chest, palms sliding over his pecs and down his ribs before he brought them up to his shoulders. Yuri gave Otabek a brief kiss. Then he brushed his bangs behind his ear and waited, looked at Otabek and his eyes were bright, the sunlight coming in through the windows leaving only small, sheer shadows on his right side. Otabek stared until it became too much, the desire to do something too strong.

He laid Yuri back on the bed, loomed over him and saw Yuri’s lips twitch. Otabek dropped his gaze to the front of Yuri’s tented sweatpants. He ran a hand over the bulge there and Yuri hummed, a blush spreading up from his neck. Otabek watched the color grow darker, and Yuri’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Stop staring,” Yuri huffed.

“Izvinite,” Otabek apologized.

He sat back on his heels and worked Yuri’s pants and underwear off but left his socks. He slid his hands on the tops of Yuri’s pale thighs, marveling at their smoothness. Otabek lowered his head and trailed his lips from Yuri’s sternum to his navel, then went lower. He felt the muscles below tremble as he reached the tip of Yuri’s straining cock. This he put in his mouth.

Yuri swore. He placed a finger between his teeth as Otabek sucked at him gently. Otabek brought more into his mouth, let his tongue flick along the sides and trace around the head. Yuri keened, voice high, and Otabek pushed his thighs apart. They spread easily, and Otabek hummed his thanks, the vibrations reaching Yuri’s cock.

“Fuck, Beka,” Yuri moaned. He sat up abruptly, and Otabek caught his eyes. “Is it okay if I call you that?”

Otabek didn’t mind the nickname. He thought it sounded nice coming from Yuri. He pulled off just long enough to give a confirmation. Yuri slumped back onto the bed, a long whine leaving him. Otabek took Yuri in as far as he could, then swallowed. That had Yuri’s hips pushing up, his hands twisting into the blankets. He called out Otabek’s new nickname again and it spurred Otabek on.

He kept a hand at the base of Yuri’s cock while the other went to his own. He slipped it into his pants and past his briefs. His fisted his aching cock and gave it a few short tugs. It didn’t help, just made it worse. Yuri was turning into a panting mess underneath him and Otabek wanted to see all the different positions Yuri could fold into, his flexibility knowing no bounds. Otabek tightened his hand around himself because the thought brought him dangerously close to the edge. He removed his mouth from Yuri’s cock and it drew an inquiring noise from the blond.

A quiet minute passed between them, until Yuri found the lube. He tore off the safety seal and slicked his fingers. Otabek’s breath caught as he watched Yuri bring his hand down, and a question rising in his mind.

Yuri must have understood his look. “I’ve done this before, obviously,” he huffed.

Otabek didn’t think it was that obvious, but he couldn’t move his eyes away from how Yuri’s long fingers curled in. Yuri bit his lip and worked himself open. Otabek took the opportunity to remove the last of his clothes. He sat, waiting until Yuri was done. He spotted the box of condoms so he grabbed it and opened it. He took out one of the squares, then tore the foil. Yuri’s hand stopped as he watched Otabek roll it on, his eyes gone hooded.

Yuri lifted both his legs and hooked them over his elbows. Otabek leaned above him, put a hand on the bed near his shoulder and brought their mouths together. Yuri caught Otabek’s lip between his teeth, the sting of it sharp and fervid. Yuri let go and licked at the indents he’d made.

Otabek took Yuri’s legs and guided them back open, brought them up to his hips for better access. Yuri secured them at his ankles, and Otabek was pulled flush against him.

“Put it in,” Yuri sighed against his lips, his eyes full of sparkling confidence.

Otabek nodded. He placed the head of his cock at Yuri’s entrance and pushed as slow as he could. There was a flicker of discomfort over Yuri’s face but it soon smoothed. Otabek paused once he was fully inside. Yuri wiggled, and Otabek drew in a sharp breath. Yuri grinned and did it again. The snug heat wrapped around his cock combined with the little movements had Otabek gritting his teeth, jaw flexing. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his racing heart.

The legs around his waist squeezed, and he opened his eyes. Yuri lifted his head and laid a kiss on his nose. It caught Otabek off guard, the sweetness of it. He gave a controlled thrust. Yuri let out a stuttered moan, and Otabek did it again. Gradually he built his pace. Yuri’s voice bubbled with each push in and slide out. Otabek drank in the sounds, groaned when Yuri bowed his back on a particularly rough shove.

There were so many things Otabek wanted to say, but he could only pant against Yuri’s throat. He felt Yuri clamping down on his cock at random intervals, and the pressure built too quickly. He sought out Yuri’s mouth when it became too much. Yuri whined against his lips, and Otabek came, his hips faltering before they stopped. He held himself up, and his hand sought out Yuri’s cock.

He gripped it and spread the leaking precome down the sides, adding a little slickness to help the glide. Yuri broke their kiss and twisted underneath him. His thighs pressed hard and he tipped his head back, bangs sliding across his forehead. Otabek kissed his chin, just a light peck. Yuri took in a hurried breath, then he spilled in Otabek’s hand, body shaking. Otabek stared at his face, watched his brows raise in pleasure as he bit his lip, eyes pinched shut. It was something Otabek wished to see again, preferably many times.

Otabek waited until Yuri unwound his legs before he sat back and removed the condom. He tied it and held it, debating where he should go to dispose of it.

Yuri held out his hand. Otabek hesitated, but handed it over. Yuri stretched across the bed and dropped it into the small wastebasket he kept near the foot of it. Then he rubbed at his arms.

“We should get dressed,” he said. Otabek wanted to point out that they were a bit dirty. It didn’t take Yuri long to realize this himself. “After we clean up.”

“Good idea,” Otabek agreed.

They wiped themselves down and put on some clothes. Then Yuri fetched his laptop and pulled Otabek back onto the bed.

“Let’s watch a movie. You pick. Something with a lot of fighting.”

Otabek wasn’t exactly a movie buff, but he had seen one recently that he thought Yuri would enjoy. They searched for it, found it, and then spent the rest of the hours they had alone watching it.

Later, Nikolai returned with fried chicken, and he was rewarded with an excited hug from Yuri. Otabek watched the moment between the two and smiled.

* * *

Yuri was right when he had said he was like a zombie. He could barely keep his eyes open as Otabek gathered his things early the next morning.

“Do you _have_ to go?” Yuri asked between yawns.

“Unfortunately.” Otabek slipped on his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck. “We’ll make plans once I get home,” he promised.

“We better.” Yuri pulled him down into a strong hug and gave him a sleepy kiss. “I don’t think I want to wait until the next competition to see you again.”

“We can have a practice session together,” Otabek offered.

“I’d like that,” Yuri said, then smiled.

There was a car honk close by.

“Time to go.” Otabek gave Yuri one more quick kiss. “Poka.”

“I’ll text you,” Yuri said.

Otabek nodded. He waited for Yuri to get back under the covers before he turned off the light. He left the house, into the dark, frigid winter morning where the taxi was waiting for him.

He was almost to the airport when he got a text from Yuri.

_It’s time to learn how to sext, Beka._

Otabek stared at the message for a moment, then laughed. The taxi driver glanced at him in the rear-view mirror, but Otabek paid him no mind as he texted Yuri back.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been more than a year since I've written for anime fandom and it was nice to get back into it. Thanks to everyone who took the time to read this.


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